


House Bound

by khorybannefin



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Body Image, Depression, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:20:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25015351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khorybannefin/pseuds/khorybannefin
Summary: The reader gets bogged down in depression and Dean shows up to pull her out of it.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & You, Dean Winchester/You
Kudos: 18





	House Bound

House Bound

Pairing: Reader Dean

Author: khorybannefin

Author Gender: Female

Reader Gender: Female

Summary: Bad body image has crippled the reader with depression. Dean finds her and tries to pull her out of the hole.

Warnings: Depression, bad body image, self hate, fluff

A/N: Reader request for this, only the request said that Dean can’t convince her that she’s worthwhile. It is unfortunate, but I just can’t end stories like this on a bad note. Don’t we all want a happy ending?

You refused to look at yourself in the mirror anymore. You only had the one in your bathroom anyway, and it was easy enough to ignore. You knew things were bad this time, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You hadn’t showered for a few days. In fact, your entire state of personal hygeine was a bit scary. But who cared? You didn’t have anyone to impress. No one loved you. How could they?

You lay on the couch, eating the last pack of Ramen in the house. You knew you’d have to go out to get food, but you didn’t even want to think about it. You’d have to get cleaned up. And there would be people out there, people to stare at you like the horrid freak that you are. You just couldn’t deal with the thought of the cloud of judgement you’d get going through the store.

So you just binge watched another of your favorite shows. It didn’t matter that you’d seen it a million times. You watched it, wishing you had her life. Wishing you had her body and her friends. No one judged her, and if she came across monsters she was strong enough to fight and defeat them. It was a good life. You envied her.

A knock at the door barely registered. Then you heard the screen door open and a familiar voice.

“Hello? Y/N you in here?”

You could have cried. Great, just what you needed. Dean fucking Winchester, one of the earths sexiest men, and now he was in the house. Fucking great. But what did it matter, really? So he hadn’t seen you in this state before. He hadn’t liked you clean and perky. You weren’t losing anything. Better to let him see the real you so he could have his judgement and leave you in peace. His boots thumped through the house, following the sound of the tv.

When Dean walked in he took in the room. There was the remains of many meals and dirty dishes littering the entire room. It was dark, lights out and curtains pulled, even though it was early afternoon. It was cave dark in here. He saw you, not even looking at him, laying on the couch.

“Jesus, Y/N. How long have you been here?”

“I don’t know,” you answered, listlessly. “What day is it?”

“Wednesday…” Dean said, cocking an eye at you.

“What date?”

“It’s the fourth. Christ have you been here long enough we’re talking dates?”

“Yes,” you sighed, impatient for him to leave you alone. You couldn’t even look at him. You knew what you’d see. Those gorgeous green eyes, freckles for miles, full, kissable lips, and a body built for Roman sculpture. It just made you feel worse.

“What do you want Dean?” He cleared dishes out of a chair and sat down, leaning towards you, trying to pull your eyes away from the TV. You refused to look at him.

“I came to see if you were all right. No one had seen you in awhile.”

“Well isn’t that nice of them.” You pulled your phone out of the couch. It was dead. “No one bothered to call. You’re the first person to come around. Looks like they were really concerned.” The sarcasm and loathing dripped from your voice. Dean heard it and furrowed his brow.

“Hey,” he snapped in front of you, making you shoot an angry glare at him. “What’s going on? Why the hell are you like this?”

“Just go away, Dean!” You turned away from him, your patience and ability to be social utterly exhausted. “Leave me alone.”

“Uh uh,” he said, standing. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what all of this is about.” He stepped over to the couch and yanked the blanket off you. You lost your temper.

“Hey! Where the fuck do you get off coming into MY house and getting in MY business? I don’t care who you think you are Winchester you’re trespassing. Get out of my house right now before I call the cops.” Deans eyes were getting wider with every word. But you were so angry now that your throat was choked and tears were in your eyes. “Fucking interfering hunter! You don’t give a fuck about me! No one does! Just leave me alone!”

“Hey, woah now,” Dean knelt beside the couch, voice soft, and took your tear-streaked face in his hands. “Who said no one cared about you? Why would I be here if I didn’t care?” His kindness was more than you could bear. You broke down in sobs.

“Why would you care? Why would anyone? Look at me. I’m fat and gross. I’m ugly, and stupid, and not worth a single solitary fuck. Just leave me to die Dean. It’s the best thing for everyone. No one has to look at me anymore, or pretend to care. And I wouldn’t have to look at myself anymore, try to be nice while everyone judges me. I just want it to stop. I want it all to stop.”

Dean’s look of concern had deepened as you spoke, but then he started to look angry. You looked down at your lap then while you spoke, not wanting to see his htred of you in his face. You just couldn’t take it. So when Dean grabbed you in a fierce hug you weren’t ready for it.

“Y/N you idiot,” He said, voice gruff. “How can you even think that about yourself?”

“Because it’s true!” You wailed, crying and burying your head in his chest. You knew he could smell how gross you were, and it just made it worse. But he didn’t mention it.

“Do you want to know what I see when I look at you?”

You shook your head against him. You didn’t think you could stand Dean tellling you what you already knew. Even worse if he tried to make up something good about you. Somehow the lie would be so much worse.

“Tough shit, because you’re getting it anyway.” He took you by the shoulders and pulled you away from him. His hands went to the sides of your face, tilting it up, thumbs brushing the tears off your face. “Look at me. Hey, look at me.”

You pulled your eyes up from your lap, hands shaking and back slumped. His eyes were as green and beautiful as you remembered, lashes full and dark. Your mother would have called them bedroom eyes, and she was right. His freckles were darker than usual. He’d spent some time in the sun recently. You liked them darker. You could count them now. Not that you’d ever though of doing that, or wondering if he was freckled anywhere other than his arms and face. Nope, not you. No empty fantasies for you.

“There’s my girl,” Dean smiled at you and it hurt. That smile, so full of false emotion. You knew he was going to do it. He was going to tell you the pretty lies. You didn’t think you could stand it.

“Dean, don’t,” You begged, quietly. “Please don’t try that "oh you’re beautiful in my eyes” shit. I’ve heard it. And it just makes it worse. I can’t hear it from you too.“ His face clouded over.

"I’ve been called a lot of things over the years, but no friend of mine has ever called me a liar.”

“I’m not calling you a liar,” you sighed. “I’ve just been here before. You mean well, and you’re going to try to find positive things to say about me, and it’s just utter bullshit. You might even believe it, but I know the truth.”

“Well who says your truth is right? Who says it’s actual truth and not the warped perception you have about your own body? You can hate yourself, but that doesn’t mean you deserve it. And it doesn’t mean the rest of us are deluded when we tell you you’re awesome. AND YOU ARE.” He shook you by the shoulders.

“You know what, I’m not having this argument anymore.” His tone was brisk. He stood and pulled you to your feet. “I’ll prove it. Come on.”

“Dean,” you whined again. “Please don’t do this.” He didn’t even pause for your protests. He threw you over his shoulder as you squealed and carried you into the bathroom. He dropped you in the tub and turned on the taps.

“Shit! What are you doing?” You squeaked, trying to scramble out of the tub. He just kept pushing you back in. “Dean, my clothes!”

“So take them off if you don’t want them wet, but we’re doing this.” Dean stripped out of his own shirts, leaning in and playing with the taps to get the water temp right. You were watching the play of muscles in his torso with your mouth open. Your brain had gone to mush when he’d bared himself. All you could think was “there’s a half naked Winchester in my bathroom”. Your brain just couldn’t encompass such a thing. Then you realized you were sitting in a bathtub, rapidly filling, and your clothes were soaked. Dean raised a brow.

“Really? You’re going to wear your clothes?” You actually moved to pull off your t-shirt and you stopped. There was no way you could go topless in front of him. He’d see. He’d see the fat rolls and stretch marks. You hunched in on yourself.

“It’s better this way.” He rolled his eyes when you said it.

“Ok, fine,” he said. “Clothes it is.”

He climbed into the tub with you, still in his jeans and you blushed furiously. Dean, topless, in soaking wet jeans, was in the tub with you! You were pretty sure you were going to hyperventilate and die. He grabbed the bottle of shampoo and doused you with it. You struggled with him for a second as he started to scrub you with it. And he scrubbed all of you. He was literally shampooing your entire body, head to foot, clothes included. It was awkward, but he kept slapping your hands away. He was grinning like a maniac and you couldn’t help laughing.

“Do you think you can rinse all this off by yourself or do I need to do that too?”

Dean’s eyes were challenging, but full of mischeif. You’d never seen him like this. You giggled.

“I think I’ll manage.”

“Good, because this tub is way too small.” He climbed out, his jeans pouring water on the floor. “Shit. Well there goes that.” He peeled the saoked things off, leaving him in clinging wet boxers. Your eyes popped and you turned quickly away, closing your eyes as the vision danced in your head. Holy crap the man was gorgeous! It just wasn’t fair. You felt a deluge go over your head. You wiped the shampoo out of your eyes and looked up. Dean was smirking as he wrung out his jeans into the bathtub.

“I’m going to throw these into the dryer. Finish up so we can go eat.”

You blinked but did as he said. Taking off and ringing out your own clothes as you did. When you came out you actually felt much better. You towel dried your hair and brushed your teeth, then darted to your room for fresh clothes. Nothing fancy, but all clean. You walked back out into the living room and the curtains were open. The trash was gone and a glance in the kitchen showed you a full sink of dishes, elbow deep in suds. Dean came in from outside in new clothes. You knew he’d had his bag in the trunk, as usual, since he was clearly coming off a hunt.

“There you are! You look like you’re feeling better. I’m starving. Let’s get out of here.”

Into the Impala you went, the rumble of the engine soothing. The inside smelled of leather and Dean, which you didn’t mind at all. Dean reached over while he was driving to hold your hand. You ducked your head, blushing. He smiled at your response.

“You really are kind of shy aren’t you?” You nodded, blushing harder.

“Do you have any idea how cute you are when you blush?”

“Yeah, right,” you said with soft sarcasm.

“Hey, I call ‘em like I see 'em. And don’t tell me I’m not allowed to think you’re cute because that just ain’t gonna happen. Ooh, check it out. Pancakes!”

He pulled into one of those 24 hour breakfast diners. He came around to your side of the car and pulled you out. Casually he threw his arm across your shoulders as you went in and he asked for a booth seat. He let you sit and then shoved you over, sitting next to you.

“Dean, you really don’t have to do this.”

“I know,” he said, looking at you, a half grin on his face. “But I want to. I admit it’s partially selfish. They have six different kinds of syrup here! You’re going to have to help me out.”

You giggled. Dean always was a bottomless pit when it came to food, and he ate so much junk it was incredible he hadn’t had a heart attack. But if anyone could survive that many calories it was Dean. I mean look at him. He obviously worked it all off. On second thought, don’t look at him. The thought of him “working it off” in different ways was not helping your blush factor.

You sat and ate pancakes with a simply beautiful man, who balanced spoons on his nose and wiped blueberry syrup off your face. He never stopped smiling, and did everything he could to make you laugh. By the end you felt much better. You were stuffed full of sweet goodness and had actually even relaxed. You were thinking more about Dean than you were yourself. When he twined his fingers with yours on the way back out to the car you just accepted it, loving the feel of his hand in yours. He held your hand all the way back to your house.

He walked you up to the door and stopped there. He took your other hand in his so he was holding them both. He pulled them up and kissed each of them on the knuckles. Then he lowered your hands, leaned in, and kissed you softly on the mouth. You couldn’t tell what the look in his eyes meant, but it made you blush again. He was still smiling.

“I had a lot of fun with you today.” He said, catching your eye.

“I did too,” your voice was soft and you looked down again. A finger under your chin tilted your head back up to look at him.

“You mind if I come back and do it again?”

“I’d like that,” you’d never blushed so hard in your life. You could feel it run down your neck into your chest and your ears were so hot you thought they might actually glow in the dark.

“You’re so cute when you blush.” He grinned. “I’ve gotta go back to work but I’ll be back through town in a few days. You get ready because I’m going to take you out for real next time, ok?”

“Ok,” you nodded, grinning.

“That’s my girl.”

He kissed you again and left. You stood on the porch and watched him drive off. He waved at you out the window, and you waved back at him, hoping he could see it through the dust from your driveway. You heaved a happy sigh, still wondering just what the hell had happened today. But you found you really didn’t care. You went in the house and did the dishes. You vacuumed the crumbs and opened the windows to air the place out. You’d be damned if he was going to come back and find the place like that again. It was embarrassing that he’d had to clean it up in the first place. You puttered around until you went to do laundry. You found his jeans still in your dryer. Weirdo that you were you put them to your face an inhaled. They smelled of Dean, and you sighed. If nothing else you’d make sure he came back for these, but in the meantime maybe you’d hold onto them, just a little.

He’d called you “my girl”. You just smiled.


End file.
